


Training Exercises

by spookywoods



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Blindfolds, Hand Jobs, It's Curry Night at the Malfoy-Potter Residence!, M/M, Married Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Terrible smut and terrible puns, here all week, so you know it will be hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookywoods/pseuds/spookywoods
Summary: Harry comes home from work to find Draco sitting in the dining room in the dark, wearing a blindfold and little else.“It’s for training,” Draco says.“Training?”“Sensory and environmental magic.”“I could help you train,” Harry says.





	Training Exercises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostgansey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostgansey/gifts).



> written for the prompt "Drarry + blindfold" for the always lovely [Estrella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostgansey/pseuds/lostgansey)/[hogwartsfirebolt](http://hogwartsfirebolt.tumblr.com) who listens to me ramble off 800 new fic ideas every day and helps me figure out each and every one of them <3
> 
> beta'd by the wonderful [slythrns-heir](http://slythrns-heir.tumblr.com/)! all the thanks!

It starts when Draco asks his Environmental Magic instructor for practice exercises. “Use a wizard’s blindfold,” Auror Eldersnitch says, “and sit in a dark, quiet room.” 

So Draco rummages through the hall closet, searching for Blaise’s gift in the box of junk from his bachelor party. Under packages of colognes and cufflinks, books and stationery, he finds _ Magical Bondage for Beginners  _ and tears it open. 

He sits tall in a simple wooden chair in the dark of the dining room, the thick, black blindfold over his eyes. His breaths are even, steady, and his only movement is the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He’s taken off his training robes, wearing only a thin white undershirt and his briefs. Draco can feel his magic reaching out through his other senses, heightened by his meditation. 

He isn’t sure how long he sits there before Harry comes home from the charity office. He hears him rummaging around, can almost see him stop and gape at the opened kit Draco left out in the kitchen. When Harry’s steps approach, Draco can’t help but smirk. The tendrils of his magic reach out for Harry, gentle and comforting, and when they find him, a burst of heat radiates back to Draco. 

“Alright, Draco?” Harry asks. He stands behind Draco, the slightest hints of arousal and concern make him shiver. 

“It’s for training,” Draco says. 

“Training?” 

“Sensory and environmental magic.” 

The air is thick with Harry’s scent. Draco’s never experienced it quite like this before, smelling ink and parchment, hints of tea and bergamot, and the faintest trace of cedar. Draco licks his lips, wanting to taste and touch. His magic sizzles when it reaches out and mixes with the warmth of Harry’s want, and suddenly the myriad of thoughts his husband must be thinking flash across Draco’s mind. 

“I could help you  _ train, _ ” Harry says.  

Draco’s breath catches, and Harry takes that as his queue to run his hands over Draco’s shoulders, over the thin layer of his undershirt to the soft skin of his neck. Harry rakes his nails down Draco’s pulse, sneaks a hand under the fabric and down the front of his chest. He weaves his way over Draco’s skin, caressing his abdomen, his pecks, applying pressure over his nipples, and Draco gasps when Harry puts his lips to his neck. 

“What are you doing?” Draco asks when Harry’s hand goes further down, grazing Draco’s half-hard cock over his briefs. 

Harry mouths at Draco’s ear, “I’m distracting you. Sensory overload. I’m going to keep at it, then test your magic.” 

Harry nibbles down his neck and tongues at his collarbone. It sends shivers down Draco’s body but somehow he’s burning from the inside out. His magic reaches out, and he smells the sweat on Harry’s brow, hears the steady beating of his heart, practically tastes the Earl Grey on his tongue. 

Then Harry uses his free hand to reach around and pinch a nipple through his shirt. Draco can’t help the long, low moan it elicits from him as he’s overcome with a wave of piercing pleasure. “Let’s see how good you are when you’ve got my cock in your arse.” 

“If only,” Draco breathes, “they tested us this way in training.” 

Harry smiles against the back of his neck then shoves his hand under the waist of his briefs. He gives a few lazy tugs to Draco’s cock, and Draco can’t fight the build up of tension for much longer. Just as he thinks he might start to beg, Harry removes his hands completely, taking a step back. The loss of heat and pleasure almost hurts, and Draco groans, his magic pooling, baited, waiting for release. 

Draco’s arms start to rise out of reflex. His hands seek out his lover’s touch, but Harry slaps them away, leaving Draco unhinged and overwrought with sensory potential. 

“Am I going to have to tie you up?” Harry asks, his hand resting on the back of Draco’s neck. 

Draco shakes his head, but the thought makes his cock twitch. 

“Good,” Harry says, and Draco hears a twist of fabric, the crack of knuckles. Harry’s undoing the buttons of his shirt cuffs. Draco bites his lip as he pictures Harry rolling up his sleeves, a determined look on his face as he sets himself to work on ruining him. 

Calloused hands find their way back to Draco’s chest, pulling up his shirt, roaming over his skin. They press and tease, knead Draco’s pecks, twist his nipples until he’s so out of breath he can’t form words to beg for more. But Harry knows, and he pushes down the smooth muscles of Draco’s abdomen, a slow, torturous touch that ends with him palming Draco over his pants. 

Draco whines and bucks his hips into his hand. 

“You seem to be enjoying this,” Harry whispers in his ear. The heat of his breath sends another wave of pleasure down his spine.

Harry starts moving his hand up and down Draco’s cock, twisting it with the hard pressure that Draco loves. He knows he’s losing control of his magic as the pleasure takes over, but it’s rushing around him and Harry and connecting them in a way he’s never quite experienced before. Draco can’t see Harry but he can feel every fiber of him, the entirety of his love and desire as it’s focused solely on him. It’s beautiful, painful almost, and it’s going to push him over the edge. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Harry says, kissing his neck. His other hand is wrapped around Draco, pressed to his chest. Harry’s breath is unsteady and Draco can almost feel his arousal paired with his own. 

“So close,” Draco nods, and Harry increases the speed of his stokes. Draco writhes against the chair, the tension in his muscles gets to be too much. He only knows the heat of Harry’s touch and the give of his magic as it pulses around them. It’s everything and it’s too much, and he’s about to let go when Harry pulls his hands away. “What—” Draco breathes, “—the fuck.”

Harry sighs. “Tell me what I left in the kitchen.” Draco’s body shudders with coiled pleasure, and he whines, desperate for release. Harry cards his fingers through Draco’s hair, “If you tell me, I’ll make it so good for you.” 

Draco tries to curse but his mouth barely moves. Harry’s hand stops, grabs his hair in a gentle tug, and Draco groans. 

“What was that?”

“Curry,” Draco manages. He licks his lips. “You’ve brought take away from Naan and Curry.”

Harry leans over him and shoves his hand back under the waistband of Draco’s briefs. It’s fast and rough and Draco thinks he might explode from want until Harry sneaks his other arm around and holds Draco against the chair by his chest. He bites Draco’s ear, says, “You’re such a good boy,” and it’s enough to make Draco come so hard he leaves his body, weightless, alive and electric in the extension of his magic. 

He comes back to himself, hears Harry cast a cleaning spell, and so he reaches up and takes off the blindfold. 

“That was good,” Harry says. Draco can finally see how wrecked he is, face flushed, lips bitten into a crimson mess. Harry’s hand falls to the bulge in his trousers. “Your environmental magic is getting better.”

Draco reaches out and pushes Harry’s hand away from his cock. He palms his erection with a slow, teasing touch. “It’s Tuesday,” he smirks. 

“So?” Harry breathes, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“You  _ always _ get curry on Tuesdays,” Draco licks his lips and drops to his knees. He grabs Harry’s hips and looks up at him. “But let’s see what else you can do to help me with my lessons, shall we?” 

Draco opens his flies and pulls Harry’s pants down. 

  
  



End file.
